Kamen Rider Tarock Re-Dealt: Past Influences
by starofjustice
Summary: A series of short chapters exploring key moments in the history of characters from my main story, Kamen Rider Tarock Re-Dealt.
1. Chapter 1

**Kamen Rider Tarock, Re-Dealt: Past Influences**

 **Chapter One: Liss**

The lights were out in Felicity's room, and while it would've been the work of a second to flip the switch and pretend she was doing her homework, she had a feeling as if the owners of the yelling voices on the other side of her bedroom wall opened her door they wouldn't be able to find her in the darkness.

"…didn't raise you to be a miserable man-hating whore like this!" came her father's voice, finally ending his latest angry rant.

"I am **not** a whore because I'm not attracted to men!" Paige yelled back. Her partner was silent, but Felicity knew she was out there, and a small part of wanted to let her in to hide from the argument – somehow, the word didn't seem strong enough – going on outside.

"Paul, maybe you're over—" Felicity's mother tried feebly to intervene again.

" **Don't** ," Paige said angrily. "He told me what he thinks of me. Even though it's not a choice I made, it's just the way I am. He just doesn't want to think I got it from **his** side of the family."

"Don't you talk to us like that!" their father roared. "I'm your father, and if I say—"

"That if I should start seeing men, then that makes it so?" Paige interrupted him. "I tried it, it just didn't work. I tried this, and I'm in a relationship with someone I care about now. Like when you tried to put me in the Girl Scouts."

"Don't you **dare** try to compare something like this to not liking an extracurricular activity!" their father cut in once again. "This **disgusting—** "

Felicity couldn't take it anymore and stuffed her fingers in her ears. She'd never heard her parents, even her father, get so angry about anything as this, when Paige had sent her away and made a confession to their family.

She was more appalled by the flaring tempers than the thought that she might be like Paige deep down too. Paige was the coolest, smartest and toughest person she knew. The one who was just about to close on her own business even though she hadn't spent a day in college, which everyone who worked at Felicity's school was saying was the only hope they had of not working at Sandy Burger for the rest of their lives.

Felicity had thought about a little about what she'd do after school, but had mainly thought she'd go to work at Paige's place. She wasn't exactly a model student, but she wasn't a dropout either. She did all right at kung-fu class, but the only person there who ever remembered her name was Sensei. There didn't seem to be any great, glamorous future in store for her.

It was just, Paige was always the one who had a supportive word and a lecture about the ways of the real world she'd learned, and it never sounded preachy or superior coming from her. Felicity had just always thought she and Paige would always live near each other and hang out together all the time. What did she care that Paige didn't have normal dating preferences?

Paige suddenly shouted to interrupt their father, and he shouted right back to drown her out. Something snapped and Felicity knew she couldn't be there anymore. She felt around in the dark for the foot of her bed and grabbed her jacket. Then she went over to the window, unfastened the latch and pulled on it three times before she broke the seal of dirt and an ancient coat of paint and the pane finally slid up.

She peered out over the narrow ledge and gauged how far it was to the street, just a little over twelve feet. She could make that drop quietly and without hurting herself.

Right?

Mostly. She landed on her right foot first and the ankle erupted with pain, and then the sole of her shoe came loose, and she lost her balance and fell on her butt.

But she actually did it, she thought as she ran down to the corner and then ran halfway down the next block before she stopped for breath. She'd actually snuck out and was already covered in dirt and walking on a ruined shoe, which only make her father madder when she got home.

A weird, new feeling came over Felicity, a tingle up her spine as a realization hit her. She'd done something she was sure she was going to catch hell for when she got home.

But she didn't care. It was the first time she'd defied authority like that, and part of her felt _good_. Like now _she_ was finally in control of something. Like a whole new chapter in her life was starting.

As she limped along trying to keep her weight off her sore ankle, figuring out what to do while she waited for one of her family to give up and leave, a thought gradually occurred to Felicity: that that sounded like someone else's name. A nerd's name. Some pimply girl who wore thick glasses and sweaters all year and was learning to sew.

She could come up with something better than that…

* * *

 **Here's the first in my little series of vignettes to give a little more detail into past events of the characters in Kamen Rider Tarock. The order I give everyone attention might be kind of random, though. I thought I might also punch up some of these with a bit of behind the scenes info on the story.**

 **This time, it's about how four suits in your typical deck of playing cards are based on the four suits in a tarot deck, and Liss originally got her four forms in the same order the four playing-card-themed Riders were seen in Kamen Rider Blade. So, Swords corresponds to Spades/Blade, Pentacles/Coins corresponds to Diamonds/Garren, Cups corresponds to Hearts/Chalice, and Wands/Staffs corresponds to Clubs/Leangle). The Riders' names in Blade were even based on their tarot equivalents.**


	2. 2: Four Heroes

**Kamen Rider Tarock Re-Dealt: Past Influences**

 **Chapter Two: Four Heroes**

A ring of white Ora Stones set in a ring in the ceiling came to life, bathing the underground chamber in soft but ample light. Master Shardak had gone to some considerable effort to make sure they would have a safe place to conduct their business no-one else knew about.

Especially the Mythos.

From the four entrances leading into the room, a procession of armored guards filed in, taking up positions around the lacquered wooden table in the center and on each side of the entrance they'd come through.

"Queen Mareska, of the Varmalions!" announced a herald, and in she strode, a powerful woman whose soft features and curly black hair belied the thick armor she wore and the sword she carried. It was over half her height but she carried it easily in one hand: Skycalibur, the sword that was second only to one other blade in the entire Sphere with its power to conduct lightning. And perhaps more than that, it was the greatest treasure of Mareska's tribe.

She took a seat at the round table and laid her sword on it, hands draped over the hilt and the blade in case anything happened to try and take it from her. There was no such thing as too cautious in times like these.

"Sir Calvar, of the Midorians!" said another herald and out of a second doorway came a tall, heavily-built man in thick plate armor like the queen's. His sword was in its sheath at his belt, though, and in his gauntleted hand he carried the Gran Mirror, a brilliant round ornament with green veins across its surface in the shape of a five-pointed star. It had taken twenty years for his tribes' greatest craftsmen to complete it, but their claims had proven true and the mirror was capable of reflecting any attack at all made against it.

"Mecon, aide of Ser Vestimar of the Quatians!" announced a third herald, and a boy of sixteen, his clothes and face smeared with dirt. But in his hand he held a gleaming golden chalice, its rim studded with faceted white gems. From its top flowed a steady stream of sweet-smelling white vapor. The fabled Sea Cup, able to heal any wound or calm any mania. So great were its healing powers that the Quatians were the most isolated of the Four Tribes, afraid that any stranger in their midst was only there to try to steal their magical prize.

But no-one's eyes were on the miraculous cup. Instead they were on the disconcertingly young man who carried it into their gathering.

"King Kam-Ran, of the Marello!" A fourth figure entered the room, a tall, slightly wispy man whose thick mustache was starting to run gray hairs through it. His clothing was simple and dirt-smeared like the others, but his stride was long and confident as he walked into the others' midst. Obviously this was not a man to be underestimated, and that was even before spotting the metal wand in his hand.

It was the Pyre Brand, symbol of his people's power. Wisps of flame jumped from the tip before flickering away in the air every few seconds, yet King Kam-Ran carried it easily, ready to wield its fearsome power at a moment's notice. Thanks to the Pyre Brand Kam-Ran's predecessor had made the Marello into a nearly unstoppable expansionist military power, until Kam-Ran had led a secret coup and killed him before he could even learn there were assassins in his palace.

But that was why they were there that day, in a fashion: to come together and plan for the future. The four envoys each took a seat at the wooden table in the center of the room.

They'd barely settled in before Kam-Ran pointed his wand at Mecon. "Boy, where is Sir Vestimar?" Kam-Ran demanded. "He was to represent your people here, not a child like you."

Mecon didn't flinch in the face of the king's questioning, but from the dark circles under his eyes it looked like it was because he was too exhausted to worry about anything he saw now. "We were attacked on the way to the meeting. Vestimar was badly injured and sent me ahead in his place while he hid himself and tried to recover. He told me that getting the Sea Cup to this conclave was the most important thing."

Kam-Ran still regarded him suspiciously. "And how are we to know that some unknown isn't a Mythos in disguise, trying to assassinate the nobility of the four tribes?"

"How would you know that wasn't the case if Ser Vestimar himself made it here?" Mecon countered. "Doesn't the fact that I'm being open and honest about his injuries make it all the more likely my story's true? If some Mythos that could take on another's face had killed us, wouldn't it have become Ser Vestimar, the one you're expecting, instead of his aide?"

Queen Mareska struck the tip of her sword against the table to silence them. "Precautions were taken."

"Oh?" asked Sir Calvar. "Even if the boy raises a strong point, so does Kam-Ran."

"Indeed," said a voice and Master Shardak entered the room. He was an elderly-looking man in blue robes, with a gray beard that hung to his waist and a bald scalp. Standing beside him was a young, brown-haired woman with a demure expression and wearing a green dress.

They'd met her when he'd come to tell them of his plan that required all of them to meet in secret. She was Morgan, his new apprentice. She was beautiful and carried out every instruction they'd seen him give her, but now, as during their first meetings with her, her eyes darted from one of them to the next and then back the other direction. Kam-Ran fixed her with a steely gaze of his, and she looked away, but when he looked back at her a moment later he knew she was still stealthily eying each of them in turn.

Shardak explained, "I prepared alarms on all the entrances that would detect any Mythos trying to enter this place," he explained. "Perhaps you noticed the elaborate displays of crystals hanging from the ceiling as you entered."

"We noticed," replied Calvar. "Perhaps you're prepared to elaborate on the need for such an urgent conclave, and that we all bring our sacred relics for you to toy with."

"You wound me, Sir Calvar," Shardak said with a sigh, "treating my request with such jest. 'Toy', indeed, with power as great as that which each of you holds in your hands. No, the news I have is that I believe I have a way of tempering that power. Making it even greater."

Mareska looked at him, and then down at Skycalibur where it rested within easy reach. "How great?" she asked suspiciously.

"Great enough to rival any Mythos."

Sir Calvar arched an eyebrow. "Oh? And what about rivaling the Arcana?"

But Shardak waved his hand to silence this line of questioning. With his other he produced something from a fold in his robes and set it on the table. It was a thick rectangle of a gunmetal gray substance. Along one side was a thin slot, and in the center was a half-dome of some kind of colorless crystal.

"We must put such questions aside, friends, and stand together in a time of adversity such as this," Shardak warned, "But here is what I've promised you. This is my creation, the Fate Driver. It can take the power of certain tokens, and transform its wearer into a warrior with more power than you've ever dared dream."

Silence descended on the conclave. Each of the envoys looked at Shardak and then down at the sacred relic of their tribe he'd asked each of them to bring on their long and dangerous journey to meet here. Queen Mareska was the first to ask the question on all of their minds. "And by 'tokens' you mean these, don't you? The greatest treasure each of peoples possesses. And beyond that, this blade has served me well in battle before now. Would the rest of you not say the same?" she asked, looking around the table for answers.

Kam-Ran nodded silently. So did Mecon. Sir Calvar held up the Gran Mirror, which caught the light of the ceiling and seemed to blaze for a few seconds. "If I only counted how many times this saved my life on the journey here…," he said, and trailed off.

Mareska looked back at Shardak, satisfied with the answers she'd gotten. "Do you have any idea what you ask, Master Shardak?" she asked. "I've trained to wield this sword since I was a girl."

He nodded gravely. "I know exactly what I'm asking of each of you, to place your most prized possession in the hands of a powerful recluse you aren't sure you can completely trust. Oh, I suppose I've earned that. I'm not the most available of the Arcana, but I don't do the most orthodox of work, either.

"But I also tell you the Arcana were once just as human as any of you, and I believe you have just as much right, as much _responsibility_ , to fight the Mythos as they. And I believe I've found the way to maximize your contributions."

"Why is everyone so hesitant?" asked Mecon, the squire. "These treasures all have power, what good is power if it isn't used? Certainly this is the time to make use of every asset we have."

Kam-Ran folded his arms. "Because, my boy, if Shardak is so sure of his plan why doesn't he have more than just the one of these Fate Drivers, yet talk of all of us wielding power as great as the Arcana?"

Shardak shifted from one foot to another at the question. "Because creating one Fate Driver was a long and consumptive process," he explained. "There is also the matter of…altering the artifacts to make them suitable for the Driver."

"Alter?" Mareska said, standing up suddenly in alarm. "Are you out of your mind, Shardak?" she demanded. "It took the greatest smiths and imbuers working with the rarest of materials to create this sword! I'm sure that's true of theirs as well!" She looked around the table at the other envoys, who nodded somberly. "We'll never see the like of these again, and you want us to just hand them over to you to experiment with them?"

"Not experiment," Shardak said, standing firm. "They will need to be altered, but I'm sure that I can compress, but magnify the power each of them contains. The wearer of the Fate Driver will not merely wield the power of your treasures, it will become part of them. That is why I think this is so vital: mortal warriors can become superbeings. Each tribe could appoint a champion with the power of an Arcanum."

Again, silence fell. The guards shared worried glances with each other, unsure of what their envoys would say. Surely Master Shardak had a point in pleading for more powerful warriors to fight the monsters overrunning their world, but could they just give up the very symbols of their people as he asked?

Sir Calvar was the one to break it this time. He pushed the Gran Mirror in front of him into the center of the table. "Then if this is what you need, here it is. What good are symbols if the people are wiped out? I'm not so eager to remembered yet."

Kam-Ran regarded him uncertainly, then shrugged and pushed the Pyre Brand forward as well. "Perhaps what we fear is change," he murmured. "These have all been part of societies as long as we can remember, haven't they? But the Mythos are new, and perhaps we need to develop new ways too, if we're to survive. How many times have we all feared for our lives in the last week alone?"  
"I can't remember," Mecon said quietly.

Mareska sighed at this change in everyone's opinions. But, she supposed, they had a point. Ensuring the survival of their people was the most important thing. If Shardak's plan worked half as well as he claimed…"You've thought this out so deeply, Master Shardak. Does this 'superbeing' you're creating have a name yet?" she asked.

The old Arcanum's eyes lit up. "Yes indeed…I call it 'Tarock'."

* * *

 **Another chapter, another bit of behind-the-scenes info.**

 **In regards to the colors of Tarock's four basic forms, no I didn't just take the suit colors from Wizard and mix them up so the colors don't even relate to the element of the form. The suit colors (Swords - Red, Pentacles - Green, Cups - Yellow and Wands - Blue) are the same as the uniform colors of a tarot-themed villain team from the** _ **really**_ **old superhero RPG Villains & Vigilantes of which I'm kind of a fan. They were in the books Opponents Unlimited and The Pentacle Plot.**


	3. 3: Master Shardak

**Kamen Rider Tarock Re-Dealt: Past Influences**

 **Chapter Three: Master Shardak**

The sun was slowly rising and already Master Shardak and the envoys of the Four Tribes were gathered on a grassy hill awaiting the right moment.

Shardak walked out onto the hill and raised his arms to the sky, and as they'd been instructed the envoys formed a circle with him at the center. Each lifted their treasure up to catch the sun's light. Mecon's hands trembled slightly from the ordeals of his journey and lack of rest, but his face was stoic as Shardak chanted strange words they'd never heard. Queen Mareska looked over at Mecon, but he shook his head and both of them focused all their attention on the object in their hands.

 _Good_ , thought Shardak, _they're not having second thoughts and are understanding the gravity of the situation_. Sparks jumped from his fingers and he spun slowly in place, letting the energy he was releasing strike each of the four objects. They glowed, and after a few seconds each object seemed to throb with living energy, its very shape changing as its powers were affected by Shardak's ritual.

"…ursa krana veos, deloyer synger egas, r'lyeh w'gah'nagi fhtagn…" Shardak continued to chant as sunlight poured across the land and engulfed them all in its soft yellow glow. When it did, each of the treasures started to lose their shape. Shardak cried out and thrust his hands to the sky, bolts shooting from his fingertips and forming into a ball of bubbling energy that turned the sky above them a harsh red that was painful to look at.

Soon bolts of power shot back out of the ball Shardak had created and struck each object held up to it in offering. The envoys holding them up gasped and surprised and Kam-Ran almost dropped his, fearing for his life at the ray of energy shooting at him. But Shardak shook his head warningly; this was meant to happen, and they were in no danger as long as they did what he'd told them to do.

The treasures shook as the ritual changed them, and then started to shrink. In another minute each of the four envoys held a card with a golden image of the treasure they'd brought to their secret meeting on the front.

Skeptically the four looked over what Shardak had created from their peoples' sacred treasures. But Shardak himself had sunk to his knees and was gasping for breath after what he'd just done to transform such powerful artifacts.

Squire Mecon slipped the card into a pouch on his belt and knelt by the wizard's side. "Are you…all right?" he asked, surprised. "You seem completely drained after that."

"That, and crafting all the alarms, destroying a dozen Mythos that were coming too close to let them risk discovering us," Master Shardak wheezed. "And a dozen other things to keep this place safe and allow that ceremony to work."

"Do you need help?" Mecon asked, but the words had hardly left his mouth when someone else was helping Master Shardak to his feet. It was Morgan, Shardak's beautiful assistant, with a soft supportive smile on her face as she lifted him to his feet and draped his arm across her slender shoulders.

She smiled at Mecon too, and told him, "Master Shardak needs to rest. Why don't you all do the same, and he'll send for you when he has more to say?"

Then without waiting for their replies she led him down the hill to the secret entrance.

* * *

Master Shardak slumped onto the bed he'd conjured for himself in the underground sanctuary and dabbed his glistening forehead with a cloth. He was one of the more powerful even among the Arcana, but after all he'd done had still taken almost everything he'd had to succeed.

Morgan gently cupped a hand around his shoulder and tried to get him to lay down, but Shardak gently shrugged her off. She let him, even smiled at her teacher. "You've done an amazing thing today," she said. "One sure to make trouble for you with the other Arcana."

Shardak grunted in annoyance and waved it off. "The humans have as much right to take part in this war as anyone…more, honestly. They fill the cities, they farm the land, and believe it or not the Arcana were human once themselves."

"Even you?" she smirked teasingly, even though she already knew the answer to that.

"Yes, even me," he replied gently, hoping she would recognize how tired he was and leave it be.

"And what was your name, Master?" she asked. "Are you finally going to reveal _that_ secret to me?"

Master Shardak sighed inwardly. Her thirst for the wisdom he had to teach was one thing, but she always trying to get him to reveal details about himself, the kingdom and the world that it had contained, that he and the other Arcana had long ago left behind. The memories seemed to grow hazier every year…

Was it because he and the others had lived so long, or maybe because they'd become so dedicated to their lives on the Sphere, and their duties of protecting the people in this new world? With the Mythos returning centuries after their previous defeat, Shardak wouldn't have been surprised if it was the latter.

"Mer…" he started to answer Morgan's question, then stopped. He was sure that was how his original name began, but everything else was too dim to remember. "I can't answer that," he finally admitted. "It's been too long. The past is a mystery even to the Arcana, my dear. We were empowered to help pave the way to the future, not to dwell in the past. I know that with certainty."

She laughed lightly, and despite his centuries of life Shardak couldn't help feeling a warmth growing in his chest. "That's _some_ kind of answer, finally," Morgan smiled. "I wonder about what it must be like, sometimes, this other world you come from."

"Not much different, I don't think," he answered. "But no Mythos. Just the legends and old wives' tales that give those filthy beings their shapes."

"Is that what the Mythos are, you think?" Morgan asked. "Some manifestation of the peoples' fears?"

Shardak sighed and lay down on the feather bed after all, shutting his eyes. "I don't know," he answered.

Again Morgan laughed, but softly now, and brushed her fingers fondly over his cheek and over thick graying beard. "That's something I don't hear you say very often," she purred.

"I'm your teacher. I'm supposed to make you think I have all the answers so you'll listen to me," Shardak said a bit brusquely, but Morgan didn't fail to notice the faint smile beneath his beard.

She sifted through his back and retrieved the device he'd made to harness the powers of the cards he'd helped the four envoys create. It was a rectangular shape, made of gleaming silver with lines of gold she knew were meant to conduct the power of the card loaded into it, with a small, transparent crystal dome in the center. "It's beautiful," she said, marveling quietly at it.

"The Fate Driver," Shardak said. "It will drive the power of humans in deciding their own fate." He smiled a little in amusement at his little joke, but suddenly he felt the warmth of a powerful energy next to him. He sat up in a hurry, and gave a cry of surprise as he saw Morgan holding a dagger whose blade was a long shard of glowing white crystal.

Master Shardak desperately tried to summon his powers even though he knew it would be days before he was back to full strength after the ritual he'd just done. A glimmering veil formed between them, but Morgan grinned evilly and stabbed right through it, the tip of her dagger penetrating Shardak's chest.

Immediately all strength faded from his body and he fell backward, a shocked expression frozen on his face. Morgan loomed over him for a minute, grinning, before she reached into the wound she'd created and pulled out a gleaming purple crystal. The source of his powers. Of his immortality.

She had come here…no, she had sought him as a teacher, spent all that time gaining his trust, learning his methods…all to do this to him.

"This will drive the fate of humans," she said, holding the Fate Driver over him. "Drive them to their extinction." She lifted her dagger again to finish him off.

"What in the hells is going on in here?!" yelled a young voice, and in the doorway stood Mecon, the squire of the Quatian knight. Immediately he tackled Morgan and started wrestling with her for the dagger.

As they did Shardak focused desperately on the vocal rhythm of something he'd been experimenting on. Something that would allow an Arcanum like him to safely separate from his physical form for a period of time. He'd hoped that once he'd finished training the four envoys in their powers he'd be able to use it to spy on the Mythos.

Now it was his only chance of staying alive, with the crystal that contained his power torn from him.

"Let go of that, you miserable…human!" Morgan shrieked, then cried out in pain as there was a crash that must've been her slamming against the wall.

Mecon made no reply, but as Shardak chanted in his head he heard a metallic whizzing sound as a belt looped from one side of the Fate Driver around Mecon's waist. Then a powerful voice rumbled…

" **Cups Suit!** "

Morgan screamed as she tackled Mecon, now clad in bright yellow armor over a black undersuit. They grappled for a few seconds until Mecon managed to pass a hand over the Fate Driver around his waist and spray jets appeared in the fingertips of his gauntlet. A blast of water from them knocked Morgan down.

There was a roar as Morgan wielded the power of Shardak's crystal and blasted a hole in the wall, then flew away into the sky cackling. She hadn't stopped the creation of Tarock, but she'd limited it to one warrior, and cost the Arcana the aid of one of their most powerful and versatile members.

But Shardak didn't spare a second to think of that, instead feeling only a mixture of relief as he felt his spirit slipping loose his body, and desperation as he sped toward the collection of pure Ora Stones he'd brought…

XXX

"Master Shardak?" a voice asked from a thousand miles away.

"Master Shardak, can you hear me?" the same voice called again, a few hundred miles closer this time. "Are you injured? Is there anything we can do to help?" came another echoing call.

Gradually colors and shapes started to return to Master Shardak's vision. He seemed to be sitting on the table in the room where he and the four envoys had met, and they were all gathered around with what guards had managed to attend their meeting. All wore expressions of concern, but none worse than Mecon, the one closest to him and whose voice Shardak finally recognized as the one who'd been calling to him.

"Did it work?" Shardak asked, his mind still hazy. His shock at the sound of his own voice jarred him, like it was echoing down the sides of a canyon.

"Well…it would appear so," Mecon said uncertainly. A ghostly image of Master Shardak's head floated above a clear white hunk of crystal. "Your body turned to powder as soon as your apprentice got away," Mecon explained, apologetically. "I don't think there's anything that can be done to save it."

"No," Shardak said soberly. "We cannot return to the past. We can only fight for the future."


	4. 4: One to Carry On

**Kamen Rider Tarock Re-Dealt: Past Influences**

 **Chapter Four – One to Carry On**

The roar of the wind grew even louder, and Tarock concentrated so hard on the power he could feel the chill of it even on his skin inside his armor. He'd harnessed the wind countless times before, but he'd never had to fight something like this. The brown-scaled dragon creature that was all that was left of Knight Duric thundered closer, crushing boulders under its large feet as it came to finish him off. Even if it seemed there was nothing left of the once-noble Arcanum, his legendary overwhelming strength seemed as if it was only increased by selling his soul to the Mythos.

" **Dire Fate! Final Ascend!** " All the power Tarock gathered flowed into Skycalibur, the sword he'd inherited so long ago. He brought it down in front him with all his might, and the white glow of energy surrounding its blade flowed into the ground and a tornado ripped up and lifted Duric into the air. Scales were ripped from his body by the howling winds and so was one of the long white horns sticking out from his head. After another minute the howling winds stopped and Duric came crashing back down.

But almost immediately the monster got back up and snarled angrily, focusing his beady eyes on Tarock. He tensed, then jumped at Tarock, the sun seeming to go out as Duric's huge body blocked out its light.

Tarock ran for all he was worth, but a second later there was a horrific crash of Duric landing, and the shock threw Tarock into the air. He smashed into a rock and for a second his armor flickered, but Tarock concentrated the formidable will he'd had to develop to survive and his form held together. He pulled another Form Card from the pouch on his belt and loaded it.

" **Pentacles Suit!** " announced the Fate Driver as the light red armor of his Swords Form changed to the thicker green of Pentacles, and the giant hammer that was this form's weapon, the Gran Crusher, formed in his hands.

Tarock was exhausted from the fight he'd already. Raw power was his only hope of surviving another charge. Quickly he concentrated all of his elemental power, not managing to collect nearly as much or as carefully as he had before, but this no time to worry about doing a professional job.

" **Dire Fate! Grand Impact!** " Tarock watched as Duric reared up on its stubby hind legs to crush him into nothing. But as it did, it exposed its underbelly for just a second.

Without any hesitation Tarock rushed forward and swung the Gran Crusher with all his might at Duric's underbelly, and all the power he could still manage exploded into Duric's body. The monster thrashed and screamed with pain at Tarock's power, arcing out from a dent made when Tarock had hit him.

" **Cups Suit!** " the Fate Driver announced as he changed again, this time into the thin yellow armor of his Cups Form to take advantage of its powerful long-range fighting abilities. The feeling of this form, surrounded by the power of his people's most sacred treasure…now he was sure he could finish this battle. Tarock's gauntlet changed into the Sea Hand and already Tarock filled it with all the strength he could still call up.

" **Dire Fate! Blizzard Gatling!** " Long spears of ice ripped from the tips of Tarock's fingers and into Duric's monstrous body, punching holes through it before another barrage of ice spears fired and made a new set of holes in Duric's body. The monster fell over backwards with a huge boom and didn't move again, then burst into a huge cloud of blue smoke.

The blue cloud that was the only thing left of Knight Duric, the incorruptible and unstoppable champion of the Mazones Empire, finished blowing away on the cold night wind. The form card ejected from the Fate Driver on his belt and Mecon caught it between the cold metal fingers of his false hand, the real one taken from him ages ago by a brave Mythos monster.

But then the wind seemed to pick up, and it felt like a sheet of ice was forming over his skin. The blue smoke that had marked Knight Duric's death suddenly reformed before his eyes, and Mecon gaped in horror and disbelief. His exhausted hand fumbled for his pouch and a card to transform, but he had no idea what good it would do if his enemy could just revive himself whenever he was killed…

But the smoke didn't form back into the monster Mecon had killed. Instead it took the shape of a ball, and another shape appeared, giving off buffeting _waves_ of power of a kind more cold and unstoppable than anything he'd felt from any Mythos. Even the horrifying Arcana-Mythos hybrid he'd finally just destroyed…

It was a man in a dark hooded robe appeared next to the ball of blue smoke. One instant he hadn't been there, the next he was. He looked up at Mecon, and underneath his hood was an ice-white skull. He held out his hands and cupped the ball of smoke between them, and Mecon's skin crawled as he saw there was no skin on this newcomer's hands either.

"You have nothing to fear from me, Tarock," the skeleton said in a rich, calm voice. "Not yet."

"My name isn't Tarock," Mecon said.

"It is the name history will remember you by," the skeleton replied. "For good and for ill."

"You talk about the future almost like someone who's already seen it," Mecon said, cautiously.

"I do not see things the way you do, but I am not chained to one point as all of you are. I am everywhere, I am always. I am only showing myself now as the death of an immortal is a momentous occasion, and you happen to be nearby," he explained. As he did a face that appeared to be screaming in pain formed in the ball of smoke, seeming to look at Mecon and right through him at the same time. It was the face of Knight Duric, but the skeleton paid no attention to it.

Mecon took a step back. "What are you? A Mythos? An Arcanum?"

The skeleton didn't answer for a second. He pulled the ball of smoke into his sleeve, then said, "I am simply an embodiment of the force that ends your journey across this world. Some of your kind who have seen me have called me Master Mortis after I arrived to claim the soul of another Arcanum. It will do." He turned away.

But Mecon's experience as a warrior took hold in his mind, and he thrust out his false hand at the skeleton. "Wait! If you're here to collect my enemy's soul, why don't you help us against them? We need powerful—"

It was no good. Mecon blinked and the skeleton was gone again as suddenly as he'd come. All at once Mecon felt a sensation of cold race down his body from his head to his toes, as he started thinking about who or what the skeleton might have been whirled through his exhausted mind.

"Mecon?" called a powerful but slightly worried voice. Striding into view came a large man covered from head to toe in gleaming silver armor. Across his chest was a dark red cross, and raised images of wings were worked into his shoulders and the sides of his helmet. In one hand he held a long sword with a blade that seemed to be a ray of light somehow captured and welded to the hilt. It was Master Thyer, the only member of the Arcana who'd thought things were desperate enough to be willing to give any direct help to someone with power rivalling theirs.

Master Thyer ran over with clanking steps when he saw Mecon crouched in the grass. "You were victorious?" he asked, examining Mecon carefully. "Where are the others?"

"Dead," Mecon answered flatly, too drained from his fight and his encounter with Master Mortis to manage any emotion. "He got every single one of them except me, Thyer."

"You look as if he almost got you too," said Thyer. "If only I'd found you sooner, but the way he split us apart, he must've known he'd be no match for the two of us." He hoisted Mecon off the ground. "Let's get back to camp, in case he didn't come alone…"

* * *

A few times on the trip back Mecon gave in to his exhaustion, slipping in and out of consciousness. And when he slipped out, visions of the past came to him…

The face of the beautiful, implacable Queen Mareska. She'd stayed behind to hold back the flood of Mythos invading the secret hideaway Shardak had created, insisting they take her Card of Swords and insisting also that she'd be right behind them.

Mecon never saw her again, but he'd never forget how she'd stood there as the others retreated, looking so strong and so beautiful at the same time as the blade of her ancestral sword flashed again and again. With every few of her vicious swings a Mythos fell in front of her. Perhaps in another world, where Mecon hadn't been a lowly squire, where he'd been…

…where he'd been forced to become a warrior who'd given himself, body and soul, to the job of destroying the Mythos. His false hand and the scars he'd collected were signs of how he was no longer the knight's assistant who only attended that secret meeting because his patron had been injured.

His old patron, Ser Vestimar. That grizzled old knight who'd eagerly taken Mecon under his wing when he'd announced he wanted to serve his people as a soldier. Vestimar had said something to him every morning when they set out on exercises, to make sure he'd always take it to heart.

"You don't judge a man by the steel of his sword, but the steel of his soul."

He wondered how Ser Vestimar would rank the steel of his soul, but even though they'd found the old warrior and brought him home after escaping the meeting, he'd insisted on leading an expedition to root out a Mythos nest that had been raiding some of their tribes' farther villages. Most of the rest of them came back victorious, but they had no idea what had happened to Ser Vestimar.

It's what he'd wanted, anyway; on their trip to the meeting Vestimar had asked Mecon wanted out of life. At the time Mecon hadn't had an answer, and Vestimar had said it hadn't been that long ago that he hadn't either. But he'd decided what he wanted was to die with a sword in his hand, not sitting in front of a fireplace waiting for the end to come.

That was a warrior's spirit Mecon had to admit that he'd been proud to see in such an old fighter. It was more than he'd seen when he'd made heavy decision to wear the Fate Driver himself and ask the Arcana to help him raise a force to take the fight to the Mythos and destroy their source. The Emperor of Avalon had at least agreed to let him take volunteers to form his army; the Emperor himself was too busy with constant attacks on his cities to help himself, or give the help of the Arcana allied with him.

The Empress of Mazones had refused to even let Mecon within her city walls after she learned about his powers, and declared him a fugitive in her empire when he'd snuck out of her territory, and not handed over the Fate Driver to "keep it out of the wrong hands," according to the Empress. There were whispers even within her own city that the wrong hands were any mortal willing to kill an immortal, which Mecon had just proved Tarock could do.

"Will he be all right, Aese?" a voice asked from far off, interrupting Mecon's thoughts.

Aese? Didn't he know that name? "Yes, he'll be fine," a woman replied.

A woman? That sounded even more familiar. "He's lucky to have gotten away with just a few wounds like this, from what you tell about what you two ran into," the feminine voice went on.

The other voice laughed. "He's quite a warrior."

"For a human?" the woman's voice asked, a slight sharpness in her tone.

"For a _warrior_ ," the other voice corrected, slightly sharper himself at the accusation.

Mecon sat up, but immediately a pair of rough but warm hands pushed him onto his back again. "Oh no, you don't," said the woman's voice, gently chiding. "You can learn to sit still until the bandages are set like any warrior should've by now."

The world started coming into focus, and Mecon could see that kneeling over him was Master Thyer, helmet off exposing his matted brown hair and the handsome, unscarred face Mecon always found himself feeling jealous of, and a young woman wearing the dark yellow tunic the members of his small group of followers had adopted as a uniform. She was trying to give him a sharp look of disapproval, but the sparkle of her eyes framed by waves of long brown curls told a different story, that she was glad to see him in one piece after the battle he'd just returned from. Even if it was a piece covered in bloodstains.

"I guess the power of the cards always compels me to keep moving and fighting," Mecon said with a tired smile. "Master Shardak did his job too well."

"Next you'll tell me you've been a warrior so long and you never learned a word called 'discipline'," the woman muttered as she pinned off a swath of bandages.

Mecon chuckled and then clutched his side, wishing he hadn't. "Just think how bad I'd be if I didn't have you around to advise me, Aese," he said, trying to smile up at her.

"Just think how much better you'd be if you actually listened," Aese sighed, tugging his bandages extra-tight on purpose and then sitting back. "You honestly killed an Arcanum? That's not possible, is it?"

Mecon tried to push the thought of his encounter with Master Mortis from his mind; whoever he was, he didn't seem like a Mythos and had no interest in Mecon's fight, so there was no use in worrying about him. At least for the moment...

"I didn't kill an Arcanum," he replied. "I killed a _Mythos_. And I think it says a lot about our little friend that she was desperate enough to have Duric reveal himself as one of hers." Master Thyer nodded but Aese gave him a worried look.

"What does it say?" she asked.

"It says that she knows what a serious threat we are to her, even without the Arcana fighting with us," Mecon answered grimly. "Her powers are getting weak and she knows we have her cornered."

Master Thyer smiled, but Aese didn't look cheered at the news. "Won't that just make her even more desperate when we assault her?"

"Yes, it will," Mecon replied, but he put on a bright, brave smile. "But we've done what no one else on the Sphere's done. We've made the Mythos afraid of us. And soon, we're going to show them just how well-founded that fear is."

* * *

 **Sometimes I've mentioned in the main story that Liss eats a lot at a place called Sandy Burger. For those of you who thought that was a weird name, I can't take credit for it. I took it from the anime Guyver: The Bio-Boosted Armor. I've always been a fan of the Guyver series, ever since the L.A. Hero release with Steve Blum and Melissa Fahn. Honestly that was the first anime series I can remember really getting into and wanting to follow everything I could find about it. Not too surprising though, I guess.**


End file.
